


Whip

by orphan_account



Series: Bloody Mess [5]
Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Bondage, Dubious Consent, Exhibitionism, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-12
Updated: 2012-03-12
Packaged: 2018-04-13 08:41:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4515309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sniper is the self-appointed topping-from-the-bottom police.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whip

Sniper’s target moved towards the window and his dart pierced the man’s neck. His target collapsed like a heap of potatoes. Smirking, the lean, predatory Australian pulled himself up on the window and inside. He threw the unconscious man over his shoulder and carried him to the kitchen. Stripping the other naked, he bound him to the kitchen table with his ass exposed, all limbs tied so he could only move his head. Removing the dart, he left, whistling. 

Medic woke with a groan and a throbbing headache. Fro some reason he was sleeping face down, and he must have kicked the blanket off in the night. Which was odd because he was chilly…he tried to roll over and sit up, but he couldn’t. H heard clinking whenever he moved, and he eventually realized that he was restrained. But where? Had he been captured? He lifted his aching head for an instant and glanced around. He seemed to be in his own team’s dining hall. What was going on? 

For a while, he was left with his thoughts, but soon enough, men trickled in for lunch. No one said anything. Most of them stopped, avoided the table and pretended not to notice.

Inwardly seething, Medic racked his brain trying to figure out what was going on. Maybe he was dreaming? In any case, he decided that laying still and pretending to be unconscious or asleep was the best way to avoid his teammates’ notice. 

Sniper came in last, sitting on the table next to Medic. “Awake yet?”

Ah. Now it made sense. Medic forced himself to lay still and not growl or thrash or try to break his bonds and rip the smug Australian limb from limb, as he should have done when he was first approached by him. 

Sniper patted Medic’s ass fondly. He brushed a coil of something over the German’s nude butt and back. It took Medic a minute to realize it was his bullwhip.

Medic froze, but couldn’t keep his breathing steady as the feeling of the whip filled him with rage—and yes—fear. “What are you doing?” he hissed, trying not to be heard by anyone but Sniper. “What are they doing here?”

“They’re having lunch. Sandwiches.” Sniper grinned, “and we are going to play a little.” 

Now Medic growled, low in his throat and rumbling out of his bared teeth. “What are you doing?” he repeated, his voice shrill with emotion, then fading to a warning, cat-like snarl. “Stop this. Now.”

“No,” Sniper growled back, still smiling. “You’ll be here for a while.” He stood and stepped back from his lover, uncoiling his whip and taking a few practice snaps, the cracker lighting against Medic’s ass with a crack.

Medic screamed helplessly when he heard the snap—the sound, more than the slight pain startling him. He bit his lip to contain the sound, his eyes wide with fury and terror and shame, his face corpse-white.

Everyone watched with wide eyes and concerned looks for Sniper. Most of them assumed the Australian had lost his mind to try this with Medic. Sniper ignored his audience, snapping the bullwhip over his submissive’s ass and drawing blood this time. 

Engineer coughed and stood. “I reckon I got other things to be doin’. C’mon, Scout.” Hopefully Medic wouldn’t associate him with this…bizarre incident. And it didn’t seem right for the kid to see this.

Scout shook off his teammate’s hand. “Hey, I’m watchin’ this!”

“…suit yourself.” Engineer slowly made his way for the door, never taking his eyes off of Sniper.

Sniper let him go, not really paying attention to the men around him. He cracked the whip a few more times, lashing Medic’s ass until blood was running down his thighs in thick ribbons.

Soldier turned a terrible shade of purplish red before bursting out with ‘MAGGOTS!’ and running out of the kitchen. 

Spy cloaked himself and stayed to watch, lurking in a corner where he was less likely to be seen. 

Medic screamed again, the sound muffled by his closed lips as he jerked and bucked in the restraints. Finally the pain was too great and he allowed himself to scream freely, switching randomly between English and German, cursing Sniper to all sorts of hideous and unlikely fates. 

Scout turned a ghastly shade of white and stumbled to his feet, knocking over his chair in his hurry to get away from the crazy man. There was the sound of him running away at top speed once he had cleared the door. 

“I’d, ah, better see how Engie’s making out…” Demo mumbled to no one in particular. “Coming, Pyro?”

The black-suited figure rumbled apparent agreement, and the two left together, leaving Medic apparently alone with his tormenter. 

“I hate all of you!” Medic screamed, his throat already getting hoarse. “I won’t save you next time you’re in trouble, mark my words!”

“You’re fine, darlin’.” Sniper shushed him, moving closer to brush a stray hair out of his face. “You’ll stay here for a little while until you learn your lesson, then we’ll have a talk and everything will be back the way it was.” He kissed the top of Medic’s head, coiled his whip and left.

“What lesson?!” Medic shrieked. “I’m going to do terrible things to you when I get out of this. Things you don’t even have a name for!” 

Heavy yawned and stretched in his bunk. It had been nice to sleep in, but he was getting hungry. He quickly dressed and patted his massive stomach, smiling to himself as he thought of the delicious sandvich in store for lunch. He hoped that his doktor had finished his experiments, and they could spend tonight together as usual. He didn’t like sleeping alone any more. 

Sniper knocked on Heavy’s door, poking his head in and grinning at the big man. “Hey, mate, hungry for lunch?”

“Come in.” Heavy smiled back when he saw Sniper. “Da. Did I miss lunch?”

“Nope, I brought you a couple sandwiches.” Sniper ducked in, holding a plate stacked with several sandwiches. He knew that of anyone, Heavy would not allow Medic to be used so roughly. And if Heavy were to see his doctor that way, Medic was unlikely to ever forgive him. “And I brought some cards if ya wanna play.”

“Oh! Is very nice. Thank you for sandvich!” Heavy beamed and clapped Sniper gently on the back before tucking into the sandwiches with gusto. “Would like to play cards with you. Have you seen doktor today? He is still busy?”

“Oof,” the Australian felt all the wind get knocked out of him for a moment, “Yeah, mate, he’s still messing around with somethin’. He seemed real cranky too. I’m gonna give him a wide berth today, so we’ll just play cards until he’s done.” Sniper clapped Heavy on the back twice as hard as he’d hit anyone else, smiling.

“Oh.” Heavy’s face fell for a moment, but he smiled back at Sniper, especially when his teammate gave him such a display of camaraderie (it was very gentle, of course, but that was to be expected). “Da. We play.” He quickly gobbled the sandwiches and cleared some space on his little table for cards.

Sniper grinned. “Da.”

****

The kitchen had been empty for some time, quiet except for the occasional drop of blood hitting the floor and Medic’s enraged panting. Spy moved out of his corner silently. His hand slid along the naked man’s bloodstained backside, caressing the skin with the utmost gentleness.

Medic, who had fallen into a sort of quiet, seething daze, jerked back into full alertness when he felt the touch. “Who is it? Who’s there?” he asked, trying to crane his head around enough to look. When he still saw no one, he growled, “…Spy.”

The invisible touch stroked his skin, smearing the blood over the pale white flesh. The hand stayed on him, the fingers clenching and releasing. Finally Medic could hear the unmistakeable sound of a man panting, groaning… and then he felt Spy’s ejaculate dripping across his ass. The French man purred, zipped up his pants and left, after wiping his bloody hand across Medic’s clean shoulder.

Shuddering with revulsion, Medic screamed wordlessly after the departing Frenchman. Hours passed. His headache grew so bad that he was shivering and praying, then dissipated. Medic grew thirsty, and thirstier. Finally, he realized the obvious solution. He just had to kill himself and he would respawn and then…then he could plot his glorious revenge. His choices for suicide were quite limited, but his head was free. He managed to inch forward until his forehead rested on the edge of the stainless steel table. From there, it was just a matter of bashing his head against it. At first, he thought it wouldn’t help, that the surface was too blunt. He cried out in triumph at the first bright spatter of blood, dripping between his eyes to fall on the concrete floor far below. He increased his rhythm, pounding, smashing his skull against the table. 

Scout had ducked into the kitchen to make a sandwich as fast as he could, when he was totally sidetracked by the sight of Medic trying to bash his own brains in. “Uh… here.” he squirmed awkwardly, unwrapping his hands and using the bandage to wrap Medic’s head, protecting his forehead from bludgeoning.

More than a little dazed by his repeated head bashing, it took a minute for Medic to figure out what was going on. “No!” he cried, “what are you doing, stupid boy! Don’t just bandage me…release me!”

“Well…gee, doc…” Scout rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “I’d like ta help you and all, but, see, I don’t think Sniper would like that, and…y’know…” He decided that Medic was only calling him stupid because of brain damage or whatever. “So…I’ll just go…”

“If you won’t let me go, then shoot me! Bash in my brains with that stupid bat of yours!”

“Um…right…” Scout grabbed his sandwich and ran. 

Medic screamed and cursed and pleaded until his voice finally gave out and he collapsed on the table, silent. He couldn’t quite get himself high enough to hit his throat on the table’s edge, and the bandage was proving too thick for him to do further damage to his head. He moaned and had no choice but to give in.

Once the card games with Heavy had gotten slower and they were both tired and happy, Sniper left the giant man with a promise of more card games again soon. He slunk into the kitchen, finding Medic covered in blood and semen, his head bandaged. 

“Hello darlin’.”

Medic’s face contorted into a snarl when he heard Sniper’s voice, but he lay still and quiet and waited. 

Sniper pulled himself up to sit on the table. “You’ve been testing me, Medic. I like what we have, but I’m not going to let you continue to test me. I am in charge, or we stop doing this.”

Medic fought to keep still and quiet and not answer the Australian’s ridiculous accusations. He felt warmth trickling down his face. When the moisture reached his mouth he licked it, expecting that he had bled through Scout’s bandage. To his utter shame and horror, it wasn’t blood that filled his mouth, but tears. He let his head hang as far as possible to hide the fact that he was crying. 

Sniper cut the bonds that tied Medic to the table, helping him sit up and massaging his limbs to help the blood flow resume. He cradled the sadistic doctor in his arms, gently.

Once he was free, Medic slumped into Sniper’s arms. He hated the man at that moment, hated him with unrelenting passion, but…it did feel nice to be held and gentled and rubbed. He was hearing a strange, repetitive sound and it took him a moment to realize it was the sound of his own sobbing. He shook himself, hard, trying to regain his precious control, but it wasn’t quite working. 

Sniper held him tightly, rocking him back and forth on the table, kissing him, wiping his tears. He murmured sweet things to his lover, telling him that he’d keep him safe, that he was in control, that he loved him. He held him tightly when he struggled, stroking or pulling his hair depending on how much he thrashed. “Shh, it’s alright, mate. You’re mine and you’re safe now.”

After a long, long, nearly-silent struggle, Medic relaxed against Sniper’s chest, probably mostly from exhaustion. He didn’t say a word. From time to time he would make sounds, even exclamations, but not in any language.

“I love you.” Sniper whispered, stroking the older man’s hair. “Come on, I’ll take you to bed.” he scooped the other up with some difficulty, being a fairly lean man, and carried him to his own room. He turned on the shower first, knowing Medic well enough to know that he needed to be washed before he’d get anywhere near his bed.

Medic allowed himself to be led, quite passively. He still didn’t speak, he just went through the motions as Sniper bent him this way or that, urged him into the shower and began to clean off the semen and blood. He winced a little as the warm water hit his wounds, but for the most part he was still. 

Sniper cleaned him off, dried him and put him to bed, covering him up to his chin and snuggling down with him. “Sleep.” he murmured, holding Medic against his chest.

**Author's Note:**

> Transferred from Y!Gallery, written by my wife and I.


End file.
